Ravings of a Dark Lord
by Insane Elven Pirate
Summary: Lord Voldemort rants about the day Harry 'defeated' him. Rated T for language only.


Quick A/N. Hey! It's been a while since I've submitted anything, so I decided to stick this up. This was a school assignment where we were supposed to write in the voice of Holden from Catcher in the Rye, this the extensive use pf the word goddam. And uh… Yeah! Enjoy!

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What? You wanna hear MY story? Seriously? MY story? NOBODY wants to hear MY story. Everyone wants to hear that goddam Harry Potter's story. They all like to tell fabulous tales about how he defeated me when he was still only a goddam baby. And you know what the saddest thing is? People actually buy that load of crap. No joke. They actually think that goddam brat defeated me. Like he has some super power such as super strength, or goddam lasers shooting out of his eyes. If his idiot mudblood mother hadn't sacrificed herself for him, I swear, honest to God, that he wouldn't be here anymore. Come to think of it, neither would a bunch of other jerks.

I suppose I should explain. I am Lord Voldemort. I was the terror of the wizard world for a great many years, but that's all over now. It started out like any normal day. I was reading the Daily Prophet and drinking herbal tea. Not that I actually wanted to drink herbal tea. I would've preferred coffee, but I had to give that up. You see, being the terror of the wizard world has its downsides. Like not being able to order a coffee without having people go mad. I had to send one of my death eaters to do it, but those guys are stupid as hell and always screwed my order up. Even though it's not that goddam hard. I have a tall latte with whole milk, ¾ caf', filled ¾ to the top with coffee and ¼ with foam, unless it's a Friday, in which case I want a grande espresso with soy milk and ½ caf', unless they don't have soy milk, in which case I want a tall mocha frappuccino, and it must be blended with exactly twenty ice cubes, any less and it's too chocolaty, any more and it's too watery. On Mondays I have a venti regular coffee, mixed with cream, and 2 ¼ packets of sugar. But, the goddam idiots always got it wrong, and did something stupid, like bringing me an espresso on a Monday. And they didn't even order the goddam espresso right. So, I eventually gave up, and switched to herbal tea. Anyways, I was reading the Prophet and one of my death eaters came in and told me we had finally figured out where the Potters were hiding. I was, of course, ecstatic as hell, and without wasting another second, jumped out of my chair and left, laughing maniacally as I went.

§

The train we were on was just plain gross. The car we were in had this musty smell to it, and there was this brown stain on the floor that looked liked blood. There was this little old lady sitting a few seats ahead of me, who kept coughing, sounding like she was trying to hack up a lung. And she seemed completely against covering her mouth. A man across the aisle and two seats behind me was smoking, and cigarette smoke kept wafting up around my head, making me gag. I swear, some people are just so goddam rude. In the very first seat of the car there was a mother and a toddler. The toddler kept asking the mother for candy, but the mother, like any sane person who has seen first hand the effects of sugar on children, said no. And of course, the kid started crying. But not just crying. He was wailing. His voice was all high pitched and stuff, and the man sitting across from them gave the woman a dirty look. I bet the guy never had kids. He had on a suit and one of those stupid looking clip-on bowties. He had a single rose laying on the seat next to him, even though I could tell he could afford a dozen. Heck he could probably afford a dozen dozen. No, this guy was probably too stingy to be a gentleman and buy a bouquet. And the whole time he rode he kept smiling in all these different ways, as if practicing. He seemed like some wannabe player. He wasn't bad looking either. I started to feel sorta sorry for the lady he was going out with. He seemed like the kinda guy that a girl would fall head over heals for. The kinda guy who would show you a good time and make you feel like a queen for a week and then suddenly refuse to return your calls. The kinda guy a girl would just weep over. And, like any normal person has a weakness, so do I, the greatest person you will ever meet. And that is seeing a woman cry. Goddam, I just can't stand to see a woman cry. I know it's crazy, but something inside me just seems to go bezerk whenever I see a woman cry, and suddenly I'm an emotional, sensitive moron. So as I sat there, looking at this guy, I started wondering about the hearts he's broken, and all the women he's made cry. What were they like? They were probably pretty, for he seemed like the type that would settle for nothing less.

Besides them, my death eaters and I were the only ones in the car. Now, you might be wondering what and all-powerful, fearsome, cruel, magnificent, intelligent, handsome, dead sexy, ingenious, charming dark lord like myself is doing on the train. And you wouldn't be the only one. Several times I noticed people giving me weird stares. Probably because I was wearing my favorite cloak. It's my favorite because it's all flowy and kinda floats behind me as I walk, creating an awesome effect. Sometimes it's a pain, because it gets caught up in all sorts of things, and I have to spend a good ten minutes trying to get it uncaught from whatever it's wound up in. That's not very omnipotent-like. But it breathes real nice. Kinda makes me feel like I'm not wearing anything, which gives you a great sense of freedom. You should try it some time. Or they might have been staring at the death eaters. They insist on wearing these ridiculous masks. I've tried to get them to stop, but they moaned about it, and dragged me onto Jerry Springer, which ended with me getting a chair to the face. Those guys are so goddam touchy about their appearance. So I gave in. Anyways, the train is pretty much our only option. You see, it's a bit embarrassing, but I have some problems with wizard transportation. I can't apparate, because it gives me a headache, I can't use floo powder because I'm allergic to it, portkeys make me nauseous, and I never actually learned to fly a broom. So we're stuck using muggle transportation whenever we go somewhere.

We finally reached our stop, and got of the train. We walked the block to the Potters' house, and I said the spell Pettigrew had told me. The house appeared from thin air; I walked up to it, and knocked three times on the door. A few moments later I heard footsteps and a smiling James Potter opened the door. The smile quickly disappeared from his face when he saw who I was. He immediately tried to shut the door, but I pointed my wand at it, and said a spell that sent it flying from its hinges, knocking James back in the process.

"James, what's going on?" James' wife, Lilly, came running into the room.

Horrified, James turned to his wife. "Lilly, get back! Take Harry and-"

I pointed my wand at him. "_Avada Kedavra._" A bolt of green light shot from my wand, and James' eyes went lifeless and his body went limp.

"NOOOOO!" Lilly screamed, watching helplessly in terror as her husband died.

I pointed my wand at her next, but she ran out of the room. I began to follow her to the next room, but my goddam cloak got caught on the banister, while I kept walking, so I ended up falling flat on my butt. Cursing, I slowly got up and rubbed my behind. I tugged my cloak off the banister and went into the next room.

I found Lilly there holding her baby, with nowhere to run. I cold smile found its way on my lips, as she glared at me in defiance. I slowly raised my wand. "_Avada Kedavra._" Again, the green light shot from my wand. Before it hit her, Lilly turned to shield her son from the spell's blast. She went down and her body lay lifeless on the floor. The baby began to wail as I approached it. I raised my wand one last time and spoke the killing curse. I expected the green light to shoot from my wand and the child to fall lifelessly to the floor as had happened twice before. But instead, when the spell hit the brat a searing pain went through my entire body. For a brief, agonizing moment that seemed to last a lifetime, I felt like I was slowly dying. My body felt cold and numb. I lost all will to live. Then it ended, and everything went black. And that's how the goddam brat, Harry Potter, defeated me when he was only a baby. . .

. . . It's not that exciting.


End file.
